Page 58 of The Vow

“You know I can’t.”

“But you can,” she said, shedding her clothes.

“Stop that. I can’t.”

“Please,” Climbing on top of me, I could smell the wine on her breath. “I need you,” she whispered in my ear.

“No!” Unable to stop myself, I pushed her away, making her fall to the floor. Disgust filled my veins. I was disgusted at myself. I wanted her too. I needed her too. I’m shackled to my chair, not at liberty to make love to her in the way I once did. All I could do was stare at her in shocked silence. I had physically pushed her away, but more than that, she sat on the ground feeling discarded and unloved.

Alex gathered her clothes and slammed the door to our bedroom. A minute later, she opened it and said something that shattered what was left of my heart into a million little pieces. “I have to get out of here.”

“Alex...”

“Let me go.”

“You have to understand...”

“What? What do I have to understand?”

I couldn’t put into words the depths of my sorrow and pain.

“You wouldn’t,” I said. “You couldn’t.”

“I think I can. I understand that maybe love doesn’t conquer all. I thought we’d get through this together. That we’d be strong together. Instead, all you do is sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Nothing I do is good enough for you.” She poked at her heart when she said, “I want to take care of you. I want to take care of this house. But that’s because I... I love us.”

“I love you too,” I wanted to say, but the devil held my tongue.

Alex stumbled around searching for her purse. “Ask yourself something. What if it was me in that chair?”

“I... please don’t drive. You’ve been drinking and it’s raining.”

“That’s it? That’s your answer?” She shook her head at me, defeated. “I’m going. I need some air.”

As the front door slammed, I considered it symbolic. It was the beginning of the end.

“I’m back. Can we talk?”

The voice sounded distant, muffled beneath the sound of the rain. I stopped trying to count the drops as they fell.

“Pip... look at me. Can we please talk?”

That voice: I recognized it once upon a time.

“Look at me!”

Footsteps. A slight touch. A horrified look as she stared at the weapon lying across my lap.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

The cold blade of the butcher’s knife tickled my neck. “Try this shit with me again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

It clattered as she threw it across the floor.

Thunder roared.

Everything was as it should be.

Twenty-Three